


Pillow Time

by NixDucky



Series: The not-so-much-Ficlets Series for Worm [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Is The Best Big Brother, Gen, Weechesters, hold me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22787203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NixDucky/pseuds/NixDucky
Summary: Baby boys and lullabies.
Series: The not-so-much-Ficlets Series for Worm [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624108
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	Pillow Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BookwormBaby2580](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookwormBaby2580/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Worm!
> 
> Of course Dean would sing this. Of course he would. But don't tell anyone ;-)
> 
> The songs Dean sings to Sammy are all by The Monkees.
> 
> As this work is a gift for my usual beta, it has not been beta'd.
> 
> Number 16 - In which Dean sings to Sammy.

“C’mon Dean! Please?”

“Sammy,” Dean sighed. “You’re getting too old for this.”

“Am not. Anyway, I always sleep the best when you sing to me. Pretty please? Dad’s not gonna be back tonight, no one will hear but me.”

Sam _was_ getting too old for this, but Dean always had a hard time saying no to him. And if John found out that Dean was still singing lullabies to Sam, Dean was sure he’d never hear the end of it.

Sure Sam was six, almost seven years old. John had already taken him target shooting. Sam had been thrilled, thinking it was just a rare day out with their dad (he still didn’t know about monsters or what John did), and he’d done his best to impress John, but the kid couldn’t aim worth a damn. John had been cool about it though, and it had been a really good day. If Dean’s aim had been less than perfect things might have gone differently, but it turned out to be one of the better memories Dean had of the three of them spending time together. 

Dean wondered to himself when his mom would’ve stopped singing to him, if she’d lived. Would she still sing Hey Jude for him at bedtime, even though he was almost a teenager? Probably not. He probably wouldn’t want her to, if he’d had the chance to grow up hearing it every night. Now though, he would’ve given anything if she could sing to him just one more time. He didn’t think that Mary would have a problem with lullabies for a seven year old. And Dean always tried to balance things out for Sam, trying to do what his dad said but at the same time imagining what their mom would’ve done and trying to give Sam that, too. That’s what had started Dean singing Sam to sleep in the first place.

It had probably been that first week after Mary had died. Dean had often joined in softly when Mary had sung baby Sam to sleep, and when he didn’t know the words, he would hum along. And when Mary was gone and their dad almost out of his mind with grief, Dean had struggled to get Sam down those first few nights. Eventually, he tried to think what his mom would’ve done, even though it made him so sad. And he’d started singing. Not The Beatles songs Mary had always sung. He’d tried, but the lump in his throat had grown so big he couldn’t ever get his voice around it. So he tried something else, some silly songs his dad had sometimes played for them in the car. There was one about buying a dog, one about a pet alligator, at least two songs about toys which Sam loved, and one about a weird aunt which made him giggle. There was even a song called ‘Mary, Mary’ which John would play all the time _before_ but never played at all anymore. Dean would sometimes sing that one for Sam. Sam didn’t really listen to the words, and never noticed when Dean changed them, but he always enthusiastically joined in to sing the “Mary, Mary” part with Dean.

But Sam’s all-time favorite, and the only song he asked for these days, was ‘Pillow Time.’

“No one sings it as good as you do. Pleeease!”

Dean rolled his eyes. The whining had begun and he knew he wouldn’t get any peace unless he sang the damn song.

“I’m the only one who’s _ever_ sung it to you, you dork.”

Sam just grinned at Dean, his dimples punctuating the fact that he knew that he’d won.

Dean sighed again. “Fine. Go brush your teeth and get into bed and then I’ll come sing you the dumb song.”

Sam gave Dean a quick little hug and ran to the bathroom.

Once Sam had crawled into the single bed furthest from the door, Dean switched off the room's main light, leaving only the lamp standing on the small table between the beds on. He brought Sam a glass of water—the kid always woke up thirsty at least once during the night—pulled the covers up to his neck, and tucked them in all around the outline of his body, just the way Sam liked it. Then he climbed onto the bed and leaned back against the headboard. Sam shifted so that he was right up close to Dean and turned his head up a little so he could watch him. Dean rested his hand on Sam’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Then he cleared his throat.

“There's a wonderland for Alice, there's a tall beanstalk for Sam,” Dean winked at his brother and Sam giggled. “The sleepy Chevy will take you there, so safely down the track. With big brother at the throttle, you'll be off to dreams and back. It's pillow time again.”

Sam gave a yawn and snuggled deeper into his pillow. He held on to Dean’s arm like it was the best teddy bear in the world, and never took his eyes off of his big brother. But he was starting to blink slowly.

“You will meet all your storybook friends, as you go down Mother Goose Lane. Romp with Jack and Jill, up and down the hill, and try to put Humpty together again. Close your sleepy eyes and listen,” Dean pointed at Sam with a smile, but Sam shook his head happily, “While we take a little hop, the candy whistle's blowin', don't you miss your station stop. So good night my wee wayfarer, pleasant dreams to you, oh tot. It's pillow time again.”

Sam gave an enormous yawn and Dean laughed. “Whoa, kid! Careful you don’t swallow me!” It was something John always used to say to Dean and the ridiculous image of Dean swallowing his dad whole had always made him laugh. John had never said that to Sam. Not that Sam would remember, anyway.

Sam stuck his tongue out at his brother. “Go on,” he demanded sleepily.

Dean shook his head fondly. Stubborn kid. Rubbing slow circles into Sam’s back—Sam had turned onto his side now, still facing Dean—he sang, “You will meet all your storybook friends, as you go down Mother Goose Lane. Romp with Jack and Jill, up and down the hill, and try to put Uncle Bobby together again,” Sam smiled but his eyes had closed and his breathing deepened. Dean continued singing softly, “Close your sleepy eyes and listen, while we take a little hop, the candy whistle's blowin', don't you miss your station stop…” Sam had started to snore softly, so Dean carefully climbed off the bed, making sure the blankets were still tight around Sam. “So good night my wee wayfarer. Pleasant dreams to you, oh Sammy. It's pillow time again…”

The song was over, and Dean stood at the bed for a moment, watching to see if he would wake up again. But Sam was fast asleep. “Sweet dreams, Sammy,” he whispered.

If Dean bent down and gave his brother a kiss on the forehead, just like his mother would’ve done, well. No-one was there to see it.


End file.
